


I hope you're done

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 09:47:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brad could be anyone to Chester. Or he could be no-one, and there's no difference</p>
            </blockquote>





	I hope you're done

Chester has had a little bit too much to drink. More than just a little bit, actually, but he doesn’t seem to know this. How his shirt is inside out is a mystery to everybody and his eye makeup is smudged like bruises, but it doesn’t matter. He slips an arm around Brad’s waist and pulls him close and Brad thinks, oh, fuck.

This isn’t just Chester drunk, this is Chester electrified, and every touch sets Brad’s pulse racing, his heart pounding behind his ribs in time with the beat of the music. They’ve done this before, the pair of them pressed close on a crowded dance floor, but tonight is different and Brad is practically fucking swooning. He feels like a complete fucking girl with his brain going:

Oh my God, he smells great.

And.

God he’s strong, oh man.

After the song ends and the DJ spins a new disk Chester grips Brad’s wrist tight enough to mean business, loose enough for Brad to pull away, and his eyes are sparkling in a dim light.

They end up in the bathroom, of course they do, and Chester pushes Brad against the door of the stall and kisses him forcefully. The world could end right now and Brad wouldn’t notice, that’s what Chester’s kisses are like. They’re like your entire life has been leading up to this and there’s no turning back now. His touches are oh-fuck-right-there-please-please-please teasing and they drive Brad crazy.

Chester spins him around and pushes in, moaning in Brad’s ear. That’s when Brad knows this will never be enough; this one night won’t be the end of it, it can’t be, he’ll die without this. Chester hands blaze a trail of fire across his stomach and up his chest, they wrap around him and bring him to the edge, and they stay there pressed together and panting for breath.

After that Chester is all Brad dreams about at night. He doesn’t spare a thought for the fact that the singer has a family of his own, mostly because his brain is too full of the memory of Chester’s skin, lips, teeth to leave room for much else other than the passing thought of:

Oh, fuck.

***

After that they sneak away whenever they can to be together. They both call Mike to say they’re sick on the day of interviews then Chester shows up at Brad’s apartment with a smile that makes him weak at the knees.

After a while, though, it gets harder to sneak away. And when they tour Chester insists on bringing his wife along, so they rarely have a second to themselves. It cuts Brad up, but eventually it dawns on him that Chester doesn’t care much either way.

That Brad, he could be anyone.

Or no-one.

And it wouldn’t matter.

They’re in the green room and the only reason they’re alone is because they should be going out for a sound check by now. Chester is eager to go and scowls at Brad when he leans his weight against the door, stopping him.

Chester puts his hands either side of Brad’s head and brushes their noses together. “What is it that you want from me here, Brad?”

“The truth.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to be with me?”

Chester’s lips curl into a suggestive smirk, “Right now,” he says, rolling his hips into Brad’s, “I want to be with you more than ever.”

“No. I mean long term. Or is that what this is all about, a quick fuck?” Brad shoves him away, glaring angrily. He already knows the answer, and feels fucking stupid for falling for it.

“I don’t have time for this, Brad, I really don’t.”

“Yeah, your wife is waiting.”

Chester’s expression changes to one of pure anger. Hatred, maybe. For a second Brad thinks he might get punched, but instead he gets laughed at. “Yeah she is. And there’s something else I didn’t tell you.” Chester grins, but it’s just teeth. “She’s pregnant.”

It’s easy enough, then, for him to push Brad out of the way and walk through the door. Because Brad feels like he’s going to throw up. And he knows he has nobody to blame but himself.

***

Her name is Elisa and she’s good enough, he guesses. She’s the perfect wife on paper – she’s Jewish and fully believes, she’s intelligent and kind and funny and their parents get along very well. It makes sense for them to fall in love and get married.

So they do.

Or at least, they get married.

Elisa seems happy enough. Maybe Brad just puts on a really good show. But inside he feels empty. Whatever. His mom and dad are happy and Mike finally gets to be somebody’s best man.

She looks beautiful in her wedding dress, her bump visible now. None of their parents are very happy but it hardly matters. It’s their baby, but neither of them wants to know if it’s a girl or a boy.

Chester scowls through the entire ceremony, drinking too much champagne and falling over a chair on his way to the bathroom to throw up. Brad finds him later, outside smoking with Mike giving him a lecture about being a bad friend which is cut short when Brad appears.

Mike ducks his head and scurries away silently, leaving them alone. Chester doesn’t say anything or even look in Brad’s direction, he just takes a long drag of his cigarette and exhales, the smoke curling away to nothingness.

Brad shifts to stand directly beside him without saying anything and they just stand there silently.

All the steam has gone out of the argument Brad had built up in his head. Nothing he could say now would change anything. So he doesn’t breathe a word.

And when Chester’s hand darts out to hold his, he doesn’t even breathe.


End file.
